


we've got all the time in the world

by swablurb



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fluffy Ending, Hide and Seek, M/M, at a fancy gala party, based on a prompt bc I asked for one and may delivered !!!, the writing style is kind of soft and different from what I'm used to doing, this is set sometime in the past sort of, you'll understand if you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swablurb/pseuds/swablurb
Summary: literally hide and seek but with a twistin time





	we've got all the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but why am I only posting now? good question

He swirls the wine around in his glass lazily, watching as the red liquid ripples and distorts the objects behind it. The room is a glittering flurry of dresses swirling every which way, occasionally dotted with a sharp black suit. He’s wearing one of his own, pinstriped and tailored to accentuate the strong lines of his body. It had been with appreciation that he’d admired himself upon seeing his reflection in the washroom mirror when he’d arrived.

Everyone is dressed in their best, pairing their outfits with beautiful, elegant masks; all in attendance are important nobles and political figures who have gathered from all over for the masquerade-themed party of some country’s princess or whoever. His nose twitches when someone wearing an especially strong perfume walks by and he raises his hand to readjust the navy blue mask resting on his face.

The princess herself is recognizable even with the pink and silver mask covering half her face. Her pale blue ballgown creates a stark contrast against her darker skin, the skirt portion bursting outwards at the waist. It’s edged with silver and gold embroidery and her silvery hair is pulled into an intricate updo, decorated with dangling jewels and colourful pins. She is in one of several groups chatting away on the large staircase. Her spot in the room and the extravagance of her dress makes her quite the sight, demanding attention, but Lance’s eyes only skim past her briefly.

He’s looking for someone else.

His gaze is alert despite the relaxed posture he’s taken up and he pushes away from the wall he’s leaning against. It’s a game that they play, sort of like hide and seek, but on a much, _much_ , larger scale.

He walks through the crowd, politely nodding and smiling greetings to several people who look his way; it’s important that he play his role correctly. As he’s making his way towards the staircase, eyes darting around him, a tall, blonde woman stops him. She asks for a dance. He smiles graciously and accepts, setting his drink aside to lead them across the dance floor. They make small talk as they twirl around but he takes every opportunity he can to glance away in search of what – who – he’s looking for. He bows when the song ends, and quietly slips away.

It’s difficult to find his target, with the masks working against him. His job is made even more difficult with the dim lighting. The only place brightly lit is the staircase, for all its status-gloating purposes. He glances at the giant grandfather clock from across the room; it’s nearing twenty minutes since he’d first arrived.

With pursed lips, Lance continues to circulate the room. He considers going upstairs to scout out the second floor, where even more guests are chattering away. When a server – also masked – comes by with more drinks, he reaches out to take one to occupy his fidgeting hands. A champagne flute dangling loosely in his palm, he decides to make a final round of the lower floor before heading towards the stairs.

His eyes dart from one face to the next, trying to catch a glimpse of intense, purple eyes to match with a head of messy, black hair. For a second, he thinks he sees the back of the familiar head, but then he blinks and it’s gone. Barely giving it a second thought, he begins a brisk walk in the direction the figure had just been, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

Slipping past the few people in his way, he ends up at the base of the stairs and looks around, trying to relocate the person from before. His blue eyes narrow in on the figure who’s halfway up the stairs, standing beside a few nobles with his back straight and holding a silver platter of drinks in his hand. Lance recognizes the champagne flutes as identical to the one held between his own fingers and honestly, if the server he’d grabbed his drink from was who he’s looking for, then that’s more than a little infuriating and a blow on his pride, but he smirks triumphantly nonetheless.

_Found you._

Of course, Lance isn’t one hundred percent certain that the server is _him_. He takes a moment and leans against the golden railing of the staircase, looking up at the man. He’s got his back facing him, so Lance can’t see his face, but the hair looks immensely familiar. What may have usually been wild hair has been pulled into a low ponytail, with the pieces of hair that weren’t long enough to fit falling forward to frame the server’s face. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black vest, paired with black slacks.

Lance is about to take the first step up the stairs when someone bumps into him from behind. Without thinking, he turns around and sees a sprightly man with bright orange hair and a matching mustache. He recognizes him as some sort of advisor or other to the princess’s father. The man offers an enthusiastic apology and it takes Lance a few seconds before he can assure him that _it really is alright so please stand up_.

One final ‘sorry’ later, the man is finally satisfied enough to leave and Lance turns his attention back to the server. He manages to catch the server’s gaze – icy blue meeting a rich violet – before the server’s eyes widen marginally and he’s hurrying up the rest of the staircase.

Lance smirks and quickly gives chase. He’s found him; he’s sure of it now.

By the time he reaches the top of the staircase, his target has run to the darkened end of the corridor and slipped into one of the rooms. Lance hesitates for a second – they’re supposed to keep a low profile when they play these games – before weaving past a few groups to reach the door, which is isolated from the rest of the party; most guests have steered clear of this area where no lights have been turned on. He grips the handle and twists.

It opens to a music room; ridiculously large with white plaster walls and delicate gold detailing. _Baroque_ , he thinks, although it is nowhere near as lavish as that art movement had offered but hey, Lance is no art major. The door clicks shut behind him and the lights are off but there is one wall made entirely of windows with one of the curtains drawn open, letting moonlight spill into the otherwise dark room. He notices the grand piano in his peripheral, but his attention is focused on the open door to the balcony. A gentle breeze blows into the room, rustling the curtains.

He stares at the figure standing outside and leaning against the balustrade, back facing him and haloed by the full moon outside. The man turns around then, arms crossing over his chest, and Lance can see the shadow of a grin stretching across his lips.

“Took you long enough.”

His voice is a challenge and Lance’s eyebrow twitches upwards. He gives a smug smile.

“Sorry. You chose a fun setting and I got distracted by some pretty ladies,” he lies easily. His smile widens when he sees those violet eyes flash.

“God, you’re annoying,” the man sneers and Lance begins to walk forward, hands raised in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

“You love me though,” he says teasingly, getting a scoff in response. He steps over the threshold of the room and onto the balcony. It’s a cool night, but he’s fine with the outfit he’s in.

Lance is close enough to touch him now but he doesn’t. Instead, he braces his hands against the balustrade on either side of him, caging the other man in his arms, and tilts his head playfully. He peers at the plain black mask surrounding glittering violet eyes. Lance grins.

“I’ll give you credit though. Didn’t think you’d hide away in plain sight as a server.”

He looks away from that strong gaze for a second, allowing his eyes to roam over how _fitted_ that white dress shirt and vest are before bringing his eyes back up.

“Mhm,” the man in front of him hums, smirking. “It was pretty funny when you literally took a drink from me and didn’t even notice.” 

Lance scrunches his nose at the reminder, causing his mask to raise slightly before he relaxes it again. He drops his hands from the balustrade to rest against the other’s hips, leaning forward the slightest bit.

“Yeah, well Keith,” he says softly, and he can feel the hitch of the man’s breath against his lip. “Still caught you.”

“I guess you did,” the man mumbles distractedly.

Lance isn’t sure what happens first – the hand at his waist, the other pulling at his nape, or the lips pressed against his own – but he knows it’s happening and for a few seconds, that’s all he really cares about.

All too quickly, they’re apart again, Keith being the one to break the kiss off and rolling his eyes at the pout Lance gives him. He brings up his right hand between them, prompting Lance to lean away. Lance stares down at the pocket watch resting in his palm, popped open for them to see the the second hand ticking away at a steady rhythm despite the lack of minute and hour hands.

“Ready to go back?” Keith asks.

Lance pouts harder.

“It was a fun party though. And you look great in that outfit,” he mourns.

Keith just sighs.

“Yeah, we’re going now,” he says and Lance chuckles, clasping his hand over Keith’s open palm.

They close their eyes and Lance presses his forehead against Keith’s, more out of affection than actual necessity. He concentrates on matching his breaths up with Keith and melding their energies together in their palm. Right when he feels things beginning to slow down, he snaps his eyes open.

His surroundings are a blur around him; the only things in focus are himself and the glowing eyes staring back into his own which are undoubtedly glowing just as brightly.

Hours pass, or it may have been seconds; in reality, what passes are years but it feels both short and incredibly long, until it stops.

The eyes he’s staring at dim down to their usual stormy grey-purple, and he feels himself seated on something soft. Lance blinks the remaining fuzziness from his eyes and grins.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully and brings their still enclasped hands to his lips, twisting them slightly to press a soft kiss to Keith’s knuckle. Keith eyes him curiously and Lance shoots him a teasing look. “I wasn’t kidding about your outfit.”

Keith groans and falls back on their bed, letting go of Lance’s hand in favour of covering his face. Lance grins and lays down beside him. He holds the golden timepiece above his face and watches as the second hand ticks along, alone in its journey around the empty face.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you once again to gaylatea on tumblr for the prompt. this was actually a challenge to write ngl
> 
> ps catch me on that dreaded blue site [@saltenecker](http://saltenecker.tumblr.com)


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